


The Opposite of War

by Call_Of_Booty



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Cute Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Of_Booty/pseuds/Call_Of_Booty
Summary: After killing Makarov, Task Force 141 was disbanded, and several months later, members of the squad receive military honors for their service. As far as Gary Sanderson is concerned, he's done and eager to move forward in his post-military life and relationship with Simon Riley. But after being decorated for his achievements, is Simon ready to think about a possible civilian life? A short and sweet vignette on what could have been.
Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	The Opposite of War

“Can’t believe you talked me into goin’ through with this,” Simon sighed, viewing himself in the mirror.

“Well, I do get to see you dressed up,” Gary mused from behind.

“See? You get somethin’ out this whole bloody affair,” Simon grimaced mockingly in the mirror, before smoothing the front of his SAS dress uniform jacket with his hands. “You know how I feel ‘bout all this pomp. Load o’ bollocks, that’s all.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Gary’s toned shifted, turning serious. “Practically twenty years of service, on top of taking down the terrorist responsible for the bloodiest massacre in the entire world? You’ve earned this,” he nudged his partner gently in the ribs.

Simon’s gaze fixated on the mirror, absorbed in the details of the dress attire. Gary cleared his throat, “Honestly, it’s more than just a pompous display of national pride – you _do_ know that, deep down.”

Simon grunted. “I’ve never been in it for the recognition, that’s all.”

“It’s just one day. For a couple hours. Let the people honor its heroes. Everything will return to normal tomorrow,” Gary implored.

“Yeah. For Queen and country an’ all that shite,” Simon sighed. “But you’re right. I signed up for this.”

“And – as for the uniform - it does look alright on you. But I could do without the goofy hat, if I’m being perfectly honest,” Gary teased, eyeing the slouchy beret skeptically.

“You’ll just have to help me take it off later, eh?”

“Along with the rest of it.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Simon murmured, grabbing Gary around the waist and pulling him in, until their stomachs met around their bellybuttons beneath their clothing. Their lips met; Simon’s teeth grazing at Gary’s lower lip sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He basked in the sweet taste of his lover’s mouth as he probed inward, breaching his lips and sucking gently on Simon’s tongue, then harder.

Hesitantly, Gary retreated. “Fuck. We’re gonna be late if we keep this up.”

“Right… we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Simon grumbled. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

***

Gary beamed with pride, brandished his mobile, and snapped a photo of Simon on the auditorium stage. Ecstatic, he jogged to meet his partner as Simon descended from the podium.

“Sanderson! Riley!” A familiar Scottish brogue called out loudly from the din of the dissipating crowd. The broad body of John MacTavish materialized from a group of soldiers and civilians huddled in conversation.

These days, MacTavish’s neatly trimmed hair was what could only be described as standard issue, and for some reason, Gary felt it odd. He passively wondered why it was so difficult for him to shirk the expectation that MacTavish would always have a short-cropped mohawk, then greeted his former captain.

“So good to see you!” Gary embraced him, eyeing a small box tucked in the front pocket of his dress uniform.

“Sanderson, if you hadna been so bloody eager to retire, you know I would’ve seen you decorated as well,” His old captain returned, clapping a large hand on Gary’s shoulder. “You can still file for the award retroactively. Especially given how long it took ‘em to bestow the bloody thing.”

“It’s quite alright,” Gary replied with a shrug. “I’ve put it all behind me.”

“Think I heard from Riley you’re attendin’ university these days... that so?”

“Yeah, at Hereforshire and Ludlow College, actually. I’m taking some counselling courses and seeing where it goes. I think I might want to work with children and military families, you know…” He smiled, sheepishly. It made him mildly uncomfortable to share his desires for the future, when so much of it remained uncertain.

“Good lad,” MacTavish beamed. “Well, as for myself and Riley here, we’re lifers, I imagine,” he guffawed, turning his attention to Simon.

Gary shifted, suddenly overly self-aware. _Lifers._

With Simon approaching his mid-thirties, and the near endless combat costing countless physical and mental deficits, the thought of his continued military service was overwhelming. Gary _did_ want him out. And he did not think himself selfish for it, either. Simon’s bad knee, the one he favored for stability when aiming, would likely require surgery in a few years. And while Simon was seeing a therapist once a month to work through his past traumas, the prolonged stress was not doing his mental or physical health any favors, either.

But because Simon had only lived the life of a warrior, his eventual retirement from the armed forces was something Gary had delicately danced around, and when conversations did happen, Simon had usually cut the discussions short with a terse, _“I’ll think it over.”_

“Well, I best be off,” MacTavish clapped Simon on the back. “Dinner tonight with family, and –,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I’m proposin’ to Moira.”

As he processed MacTavish’s news, Gary realized he had tuned out the last thirty seconds or so of the ongoing conversation. He jolted back to the present, the genuine surge of happiness for his former captain reeling him back in.

“Congratulations, mate!” Gary smiled.

“Good on you!” Simon nodded, clapping MacTavish across his back.

“Aye, quiet now, she’s walkin’ over…” MacTavish whispered, before awkwardly barking, “Well, it was good to see yah again, mates!”

MacTavish winked at them before turning towards a petite woman and young child waiting on him several feet away. Gary and Simon waved amiably at MacTavish’s family, who returned the gesture with the usual pleasantries before excusing themselves.

“ _Lifers_ , huh?” Gary asked, dryly.

“You know how he is.” Simon shrugged, nonchalant, but his blue eyes crinkled warmly as he regarded Gary, “Home?”

***

“The Conspicuous Gallantry Cross,” Simon murmured, glancing down at the silver cross pattée enclosed in the small velvet-lined box in the palm of his hand. Gary nestled his head into the crook of Simon’s shoulder as they huddled comfortably on the couch.

“For conspicuous acts of bravery,” Gary took in the silver cross, attached to a cream ribbon with crimson stripes, gleaming in Simon’s hand. “They don’t just hand these out to everyone, you know? Congrats, babe.”

“John was right,” Simon mused, gaze fixated on the service award.

Gary wondered briefly what he meant, but quickly remembered their conservation earlier with MacTavish after the ceremony.

“About you two being in this for life?” Gary said, quiet, not moving from Simon’s shoulder.

“’Bout you deservin’ this. You made a lotta sacrifices in the one-four-one.”

“Well, I don’t know if my sacrifices were quite as _conspicuous enough_ to warrant something so shiny,” Gary said, sarcastic, a bit irked Simon had again dodged further probing on MacTavish’s military _“lifers”_ comment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Simon said wryly, sitting upward, forcing Gary to sit upright. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I know you’ve put your military career behind you, but… really, this is for both of us,” Simon’s intense gaze consumed Gary as he took in the words.

“That’s… rather sweet, it is. But, you know, after my injury, I didn’t – I wasn’t… I wasn’t part of the team – your team – that got Makarov.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he clasped Gary’s hands into his own, his calloused grip squeezing tightly. “Doesn’t matter. Listen to me, if we didn’t have the intel _you_ found, we could all very well be rotting corpses. I wouldn’t be here, now, without you. And you know that.”

“Well fuck, I guess you got me there… ” Gary’s mouth twisted upward into a shy smile at the unexpected admission from Simon that he owed so much to _him._ He leaned in for a kiss, their lips meeting and parting for tongues eager to explore, as their hands pulled apart to grip at each other’s necks, fingers grasping about at short hair. He felt Simon’s large hands move to encase his face, a thick index finger probing gently into the canal of his ear, as his arousal swelled below.

He pushed his lips deeply into Simon’s before slowly pulling away, planting kisses across his jawline until he reached Simon's earlobe with a sharp, hungry nibble. “Now, can I help you out of that stuffy uniform?”

  
***

In bed, they laid cradled in each other’s arms amidst the smell of musky sweat. Gary’s head rested on Simon’s chest, listening to the faint inundations of his lover’s heartbeat.

He should have been drifting off to sleep. But it was one of those nights were the day’s events stirred up deeply embedded anxieties, and his mind was playing through various scenarios of an uncertain future. Most of them distortions, of course, but they were difficult to shake. There was the question of just how long Simon intended to stay active in the service. Gary was eager to finish his degree programme, start a career, build a life – a real life – one that was not dictated by military operations.

“Hey,” Simon croaked, hot breath washing over Gary’s face. “Awake?”

“Yeah.”

“I could tell. Look, I’ve been thinkin’ – I know what John said earlier bothered you.” He rolled onto his side, looking Gary eye to eye.

“Yeah?” Gary’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. It seemed they were both fixating on similar thoughts, separately, but together in time. He licked his lips nervously in anticipation of just what Simon was considering.

“I’ve been giving it some thought and I’ve a mind to scale back, to transition from fulltime to the reserves for a year or two, then I dunno… retire.” Simon exhaled, reaching a hand to Gary’s cheek, caressing his skin with the back of his fingers. “The service is all I’ve had since I was eighteen. I remember signin’ up to get away from my bastard father, and it became my purpose…”

The nervous ball of energy in the pit of Gary’s stomach subsided as quickly as it had come. He placed a hand behind Simon’s neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips. He listened.

“But now, it doesn’t make sense to carry on when I’m fallin’ apart and finally have something to call my own.” He ran his hand downward from Gary’s cheek to neck, collar bone to shoulder, down to his spine, fingertips lightly touching Gary's back. He returned the touch with another kiss, longer than the last. 

“I… I’d love to have you home more often. I mean, hell, I _want_ you home with me.” He squeezed Simon tightly.

“What the fuck do you suppose I’ll do afterwards?” Simon chuckled, rolling onto his back so that Gary could once again lay on his chest. “What about computer science or the like? Always enjoyed hackin’ into enemy systems out in the field...” he mused.

“Oh that’s right, and nearly got me and John _both killed_ while taking your sweet time hacking your way into the gulag.”

“Oh, fuck off, that tech was stupid ancient,” Simon nudged.

“Still, I reckon some proper courses will do you some good,” Gary yawned, sleep taking over.

Simon chuckled quietly and pulled Gary closer, until they were spooning each other, enveloped in their shared warmth.

“Guess that settles it, eh?” Simon murmured into his ear.

Gary slept very well that night.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in forever. It probably shows. But, having recently played through the MW2 Remaster, I can't help but want a much happier ending for these two.
> 
> If you missed the reference, the title of this piece was blatantly stolen from a work of fiction in the Saga universe. Which is a fantastic graphic novel. Please consider giving that series a read if you enjoy hot monsters/aliens, romance and family overcoming the odds, and works that blend genres together so beautifully.


End file.
